


Casual

by finefeatheredfriend



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arthur starts out kind of low honor but gets to high honor, Bottom Arthur Morgan, Dominance, Drunk Arthur, First Time Bottoming, Gentle Charles Smith, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Top Charles Smith, mildly NSFW image at end of story drawn by me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finefeatheredfriend/pseuds/finefeatheredfriend
Summary: From a tumblr prompt "Arthur gets absolutely owned in a contest of strength by Charles and is then forced to deal with a confusing mixture of shame, fear, and excitement at the thought of being utterly dominated and forced to submit by a stronger man." Started out at PWP, turned into something more.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 9
Kudos: 249





	Casual

It started with a drunken brawl. Well, that’s not fair. Nearly all brawls are drunken, but this one was particularly so. Having successfully robbed a stagecoach carrying bonds, bullion and bank roll, the gang was set for a while and had, of course, stocked up on their supply of various medicinal tonics. Namely whiskey. Arthur had begun the evening in a fairly good mood, but as the night progressed and the stack of bottles grew emptier and emptier, his mood worsened and then curdled into a truly foul temper. He recalled, loudly and with a great many curses, how Bill had nearly ruined the whole expedition. He then recounted, talking over a story Uncle had been attempting to tell for the fifth time, how useless John had been during the whole job, though, he went on after a swallow from his bottle, that was, perhaps, of no surprise to anyone given how useless John generally was. With his constant mockery and disdain for his fellow men, it was really an inevitability that someone started a fight. That the "someone" happened to be Javier was just an unfortunate coincidence. Fed up with Arthur's interruptions of his guitar playing, the smaller man had slammed a closed fist into Arthur's jaw. It was a mistake. Fueled by rage and angst and god only knew what other motivations, Arthur overpowered Javier, pinning his arms to his sides with his thighs so that he could not even pull his knife to defend himself.

By the time someone pried him off Javier, his bullish temper left him seeing red.

"Arthur, I said 'knock it off'!" Charles hollered, yanking him back ferociously. Arthur snarled and turned on the man.

"You ain't been here but six months and you're already givin' orders? A little too big for your britches, you ask me," Arthur informed him, swaying slightly, but still clearly ready to continue the fight.

"Nobody's asking your opinion, Arthur. You need to sober up and settle down," Charles advised him calmly. Lip curling, Arthur gave a nasty laugh, his slightly unfocused eyes taking in Charles' mass appraisingly. He was holding one of his eyes just slightly more shut than the other and he hiccupped, but he clearly still thought he could best the man, though Charles must have outweighed him by at least twenty pounds.

"You gonna _make_ me, Charles?" Arthur slurred, a smile sliding over his features.

"Yes," Charles said simply, and then Arthur lunged, the entirety of his more than two hundred pounds of weight ramming into Charles' abdomen in an attempt to take him to the ground. Charles let out a small "oof," but stood his ground, redirecting Arthur's force and flipping him as he dove, landing the outlaw on his back with a solid thud. But Arthur wasn't done yet. With a snarl, he kicked Charles' legs out from beneath him, bringing him crashing to the ground on top of him. Arthur snatched the front of his spotted tunic and wrenched them both over, attempting to pin him as he had done to Javier. Charles, however, was bigger and stronger than Javier, and was less inclined to using knives. Charles was perfectly capable of using his hands to subdue his enemy. But Arthur was not his enemy, not really. He was angry, yes, and drunk and making a complete ass of himself, but Charles had no intentions of maiming the man. He just wanted to lug him out of camp and get him back under control. Arthur was not making that easy, however. They scrabbled in the dirt, fighting for dominance and it quickly became clear who was winning.

Charles.

By a landslide.

Charles managed to press Arthur to the ground, making him swallow a mouthful of grass and sand, cursing violently as Charles forced his knee into his lower back.

"Settle down, Arthur," Charles advised him again, but he thrashed, his legs kicking out and fighting for traction in the dirt as the rest of the gang looked on, a few taking bets on who would win. Smart money was still on Charles. He barely looked as though he was breaking a sweat. Regardless, Arthur managed to turn himself onto his back and he grabbed at Charles' face with his free hand. Charles just sat on him, hanging onto his grip on his other arm with calm resolution. For a split second, there was a stalemate, not because Arthur had managed any kind of tactical advantage, but because Charles, sitting across Arthur's hips, had suddenly become aware of a hard, rod-like protuberance between them, jutting Arthur's pants upwards slightly. Surprise crossed Charles' features and in that instant Arthur used it to his advantage, landing a blow of his elbow to Charles' chin with a sickening crunch.

Charles felt his world go white and then shook himself, fury now flooding him.

_"Enough,"_ he snarled, cracking a massive fist into the side of Arthur's head hard enough the older outlaw finally looked dazed. He followed this action by picking Arthur up by his hair and his gunbelt. There was whooping and hollering from the gangmembers as Arthur struggled against him, wriggling like a fish on the line as Charles stood with hardly a grunt and trudged to the forest outside of camp, throwing Arthur on the ground and landing a solid kick in his backside for good measure.

"Come back when you're sober," he hissed, and he returned to camp, ignoring the merrymaking as the winners of the bet gathered their money from disappointed fans of Arthur who had been sure that he would subdue Charles in the end.

\------

Arthur laid on the ground outside of camp, staring up at stars that refused to stay still. They spun wildly, rocking back and forth.

"Christ alive," he mumbled, shaking his head and bringing a hand to his forehead to rub at it. He tried sitting up, but now the whole world was in motion, spinning and bouncing and waving all at the same time. He clung to the surface of the earth as though half convinced that he would fall off it if he did not. "Goddamn it," he muttered when he realized he had nothing on him. His gunbelt was empty. Oh, right, Mary Beth had taken them earlier in the night, suggesting that maybe he give them to her to clean. In hindsight, it occurred to him that she had been trying to prevent him from shooting anyone to death in his drunken stupor. Groaning, he realized that he had once again let the drink get the best of him, and his temper too.

When at last the drink had released its clutches on him enough that he could sit up, Arthur groaned, taking stock of his injuries. Bruises, nothing more. He had gotten lucky, he realized, a bolt of shame suffusing him. That shame deepened when he realized he was still partly erect, though the sailboat rocking of the world had somewhat lessened its interest. Its interest. In what? Arthur thought and the thought occurred to him that he'd only grown erect pinned under Charles. The thought of the man forcing him to do what he wanted and being fully capable of it sent another jolt through Arthur, this time one of mingled shame and interest. What the hell was that about? the big outlaw wondered.

It wasn't that he was interested in a man, that was a given. He'd lain with both men and women in equal measure. No, no it wasn't the gender of the person that had piqued his interest, it was the ease with which Charles had taken control of him, directing him to the ground and almost effortlessly pinning him down. The only thing that had slowed or subdued him in the slightest was the sudden appearance of Arthur's raging erection between them. What about the loss of control was it that interested him? He swallowed as fear trickled in to replace confusion and excitement. So what if he did want to be dominated like that? It wasn't as though he could trust anyone not to take advantage of that. Plus, he had never actually been on the receiving end. He had always been willing to sink his cock into the warmth and tightness of a consenting body, but he had never allowed anyone to do the same to him. The thought of doing so was suddenly very appealing, despite his trepidation.

Shaking his head at himself, Arthur laid back again, enjoying the warmth of the night, the singing of the crickets. Maybe he couldn't or perhaps wouldn't ever allow himself to be dominated, but that sure as hell didn't mean he couldn't imagine it. He looked around, assessing where he was. Nowhere near where any of the camp guards would patrol, he realized. He slid his cock out of his pants, rubbing himself back to attention, imagining Charles' hands on him, remembering the weight of him sitting on his belly, remembering the strength with which he had pinned him. Lazily, he began an upwards slide of his hand up his shaft, sucking in a breath as he thought of Charles' sliding inside of him, shoving his cheek into the dirt, making him splutter and cough. He thought of Charles tangling his fingers into his hair, holding his head in place.

"Aw fuck," he mumbled, closing his eyes and thinking of Charles pushing his cock deep inside of him, stroking within him, making him see stars. Arthur took a shuddering breath, his fingers trembling as he undid his belt, shoved his pants down and pushed his underwear out of the way, spitting into his hand to slick a finger that he pressed against the soft pucker of skin between his cheeks. He let out a soft moan as he pushed it inside of himself, past the tight ring and into warmth and there, oh fuck yes, just there that spot that made his cock ooze precum all over his other hand. He pumped himself into his fist, imagining his fingers were Charles' cock, imagining being tied up, or held down, imagining Charles having his way with him, holding him still and slapping a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet as he keened in rhythm to the thrusts. With a grunt he climaxed, dribbling and spurting onto the ground in front of him, sliding his finger out of himself and cleaning himself off with his spare handkerchief.

"Shhiitt," he hissed, feeling utterly spent. It would be something if he could make his fiction a reality, but he wasn't even convinced that Charles was...that way. Most gangmembers were fine with it, what with how Hosea and Dutch had once been, but that didn't mean they all mounted their horses from both sides, as it were. More than a little annoyed that his vigorous masturbation simply hadn't been enough, Arthur tucked himself back into his pants and snoozed, waiting for the rest of the alcohol's effects to wear off. 

\--------

Arthur returned to camp the next day, sheepish and more than a little embarrassed, especially after the others began to tease him for losing the fight. Javier muttered something darkly in Spanish as he sauntered past.

“Must rankle you something awful that Charles got the best of you, Morgan,” John called in that hoarse voice of his, his feelings obviously still hurt from what Arthur had drunkenly rambled the previous evening.

"Though if I didn't know any better, I'd say you _liked_ it, Morgan," Bill had added with a lascivious smirk.

"You shut the hell up," Arthur commanded him, turning heel and heading to get himself a cup of coffee at the cook fire. Charles beat him to it.

"Here. You look like hell."

"Hmm. Thanks," Arthur said, taking the proffered mug of coffee. He felt his cheeks going crimson, remembering his imaginings from the previous night.

"If you ever, ah, want to let off some steam, just tell me, Arthur," Charles said seriously, quirking a brow and looking at him significantly. "You put in a lot of work around here. You deserve it." Arthur's eyebrows flew up in surprise, but Charles didn't give him a chance to respond. He walked away casually as though he had not just suggested that a little sucking and fucking might be just what Arthur needed because apparently he "deserved it." Arthur deserved a lot of things, he thought. A bullet to the brain, a rope around his neck, but not casually offered sex from a friend.

"Jeeesus," he muttered with a small laugh, taking a sip of coffee. He tried to put the idea from his mind, but it stuck there like a burr and simply wouldn't go away. Charles said no more about it, but the idea that he had freely offered to, as he had so eloquently put it "let off some steam" simply couldn't be ignored.

The first time it happened, the two had gone out hunting, camping in the wilderness, nothing but the fire and quiet words between them. They had shared a tent, not bothering to set up two and in the heat of the night, with small tension between them, Arthur had reached a hand over and grasped Charles' crotch.

"You still serious about that?" he asked.

"Of course," Charles said, nonchalantly sliding his clothing off. The two fumbled in the darkness, each struggling for control over the other. Charles finally huffed out a breath of irritation. "I don't, uh...I'm usually the one who enters. I don't usually, um," Charles searched for a delicate way to put it, but Arthur cut him off.

"Me neither. Uh, I never have, actually," Arthur admitted, and he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn't quite ready to admit that he wanted to be fucked, either, so he stubbornly suggested they use one another's mouths instead. Charles shrugged and they aligned themselves on their sides, Charles sliding his cock past Arthur's lips and into his mouth where the outlaw sucked, his rough tongue rubbing the underside of Charles' cock, his hand rubbing Charles' balls. Charles, for his part, sucked Arthur's cock with professional motions, squeezing in all the right places, but then he lapped at Arthur's hole, his tongue pressing at it, wetting it. He slid a finger slowly home and Arthur's toes curled when Charles moved his finger in a "come here" motion. Arthur nearly forgot how to exist, let alone suck a cock, though a quick forward thrust of Charles' hips reminded him that he couldn't just lay there and enjoy what Charles was doing to him. Charles added a second finger, and then a third, pumping them in and out of Arthur while his thumb massaged his taint, his mouth sliding over his cock.

Arthur slid his mouth off Charles' cock with a gasp.

"Oh shiiiit," he moaned. Charles chuckled, sending vibrations through Arthur's groin and he was undone.

"Alright, do it," he commanded, pulling his cock away from Charles' mouth. Charles slid his fingers out and met his eyes in the dim light of the moon.

"You sure? You said you never...?"

"There's a first time for everything now just fuck me, goddammit." Charles raised a brow at that, but he pulled Arthur up, aligning the head of his cock with Arthur's hole.

"It might hurt a little at first. Just relax."

"Get the hell inside of me, Charles," Arthur growled and with another casual shrug, Charles complied, seating himself fully inside of Arthur, his balls pressing against the back of Arthur's legs, though he sank in slowly, gradually easing into Arthur. Arthur whimpered slightly, having forgotten the girth of Charles' cock in his eagerness to be fucked. Arthur spread his legs a little farther, lowering his hips and Charles slid down with him, reaching a hand beneath him to continue stroking his cock.

"You alright, Arthur?" he asked.

"Just fine," Arthur told him, but he was sucking in little shallow breaths. It was overwhelming, the feeling of being stretched, of his body shifting around someone who was inside of him. Charles' cock was inside of him. He took a shuddering breath, blinking rapidly as he adjusted to the idea of himself as someone who was willing to be fucked.

"Arthur?" Charles asked.

"I said I'm fine," Arthur snapped. Charles put a hand gently on his hip and pulled out slightly, pushing back in again. This was not how Arthur had imagined it. He wanted it fast, hard, desperate, shoving him into the ground and making him feel subdued. But the way Charles was fucking him was slow, gentle, careful. "You know you can fuck me like you mean it," Arthur told him. Charles frowned.

"What do you think this is, Arthur?" Arthur looked over his shoulder at him, his brow furrowed.

"The hell you mean?"

"Nothing," Charles said softly, but he put his hands on either side of Arthur's hips and increased his tempo. Arthur purred at that, his back arching as Charles fucked into him, pressing against his prostate and stroking his cock with a practiced hand until, gasping, Arthur spent himself onto the ground. Charles followed him not long after and to Arthur's surprise, he sank his teeth into his shoulder and then kissed away the sting. Charles laid beside him and tried to pull him close, but Arthur resisted. Nothing good ever came of getting close to someone, he had found.

"I was thinking to just keep this casual, Charles," Arthur said firmly. Charles nodded.

"Casual. Alright then." They dressed themselves again and Charles kept to his side of the tent. In the morning, he was up well before Arthur, already out of the tent with coffee made. "Sleep alright?" he asked.

"Fine," Arthur answered. "Little sore."

"That's expected. You alright?"

"Fine," Arthur answered again. He sat in silence for a long moment before saying anything else. "Last night was...nice. Thank you." Charles gave him a look of derision.

"That wasn't only for your benefit," Charles pointed out and Arthur nodded.

"Fair enough. If you ever want a repeat...I'm open to it."

And so it went. They'd go off on hunting trips or scouting trips or patrols together, and before they found themselves back at camp, at some point or other Charles would bury himself balls deep inside of Arthur.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. It never satisfied that need he had to be forced, to be told what to do. But he didn't know if he could admit that to Charles. And with every passing day, with every hunting trip, every expedition, with every gentle touch of Charles' hand, pulling away from Arthur almost regretfully, Arthur found himself wishing he hadn't said he wanted to keep things casual. For him to get what he wanted, he needed to know he could trust Charles. They needed to be something more than what they were, Arthur realized.

\-----

Arthur got drunk again. This time, because he found he had developed feelings he hadn't planned on. He hadn't planned on his desperate need for Charles to fuck him to turn into anything else. But Charles wasn't just a warm body. He wasn't just a machine there and available to service Arthur whenever he wanted. Charles, all six feet of him, was more than just muscle and strength and a quiet promise of violence when it was needed. He was smart, and capable. He was caring and sensitive. He respected Arthur's boundaries, never lying close to him, never kissing him or doing more than what was asked. Whenever they moved together with hard breaths and the slapping of skin against skin, Charles sheathing himself inside of Arthur, he made sure he wasn't hurting the older man. He was careful, and conscientious, making certain, always, that Arthur was comfortable, and that he had absolute consent, resolutely pushing Arthur away whenever he approached him while drunk. Charles, with his soft brown eyes and long raven hair, was so much more than how Arthur was treating him. And it made him feel like shit. So he got drunk again, and he picked another fight.

Charles pinned Arthur to the ground again, his face exasperated.

"Why do you do this, Arthur?" he asked softly as he held him in place.

"Firstly, I ain't doin' nothin' we don't all do. And second, you can get the hell offa me," Arthur snarled, his temper still hot even after receiving a few deserved punches.

"Come on," Charles prodded him, dragging him to his feet. Arthur swung weakly, his fist connecting with Charles' ribs, but it didn't hit hard enough to hurt. "You need to sober up," Charles advised him. "You gotta stop this, Arthur. I worry about you.” He huffed a sigh, shaking his head as he directed Arthur’s wobbly footsteps. “There," he said, shoving Arthur forcefully out of camp. "Sleep it off." He didn't sound angry. He sounded sad.

"Charles," Arthur called from where he had half-sat, half-collapsed into the grass. Charles turned back to look at him, said nothing. "Stay. We can..."

"No," Charles said firmly, and he started to walk away.

"Now I ain't that drunk, goddammit, Charles. Just...come back here." Charles looked torn, guilty even, but Arthur's words stopped him. Arthur fisted his fingers in Charles’ tunic, pulling him down and kissing him lightly, shoving his own suspenders down. "I just...I need this, I need you."

"No, Arthur."

"Charles, come on..."

"No, goddammit!" Charles yelled and Arthur blinked in surprise. It wasn't often the usually stoic man lost his cool. "I don't...I'm not just here to fuck you, Arthur."

"And yet you do so happily," Arthur snarked, knowing it was unfair to say, but it was already said. Charles blinked.

"Get some rest, Arthur." And he was gone.

"Goddammit, Morgan," Arthur whispered to himself, rubbing his head.

\------

Arthur stopped asking Charles to fuck him. He, in fact, didn't approach him for sex again after that night. But he tried to show that he was sorry in whatever ways he could. When they hunted together, he woke up first, made coffee. He brought Charles feathers for arrow-making and plants for creating poisoned throwing knives. He brought him herbs for healing and tonics for his horse. But gifts didn't seem to make any dent in Charles' quiet irritation at him, at his disappointment in him.

Next, Arthur tried apologizing, but Charles was a man of few words, even fewer when he was angry or upset.

"I'm sorry, Charles. Shouldn't have said what I did. I shouldn’t have kissed you just to take advantage…" Charles had just hummed, nodded, and walked away. Frustrated, Arthur called after him, "I don't just want casual with you, Charles. Not anymore." Charles kept walking.

Arthur then contented himself with trying to spend time with the quiet man, but he often disappeared from camp, not seen for days or sometimes weeks, and Arthur worried that he had finally driven him away for good. If anyone else in camp noticed their quiet lover's quarrel, no one said anything about it.

Arthur was at a loss of what to do, didn't know how to fix what he had broken. But he tried. He stopped getting blackout drunk at every opportunity. He kept himself healthy, forgoing beer and whiskey for water instead. He met Charles' eye across the fire the next camp party, interest in his eye. At last, at long last, Charles gave him something. He jutted his head slightly, indicating that Arthur should meet him outside of camp.

Arthur slipped away from the campfire, straightening his clothes, removing his hat and running fingers through his hair to straighten it where it had been mussed. He didn't know if he was meeting Charles to talk or to fight or to fuck, but he wanted to be ready, no matter what happened.

Charles waited until they were out of sight and hearing of camp, and then he turned and cupped Arthur's face, kissing him roughly.

"I _never_ wanted casual from you." Arthur took a soft breath.

"The way you offered..."

"I was offering because I care about you, Arthur. It's not something I offer to everyone. I don't know why you'd think that."

"I didn't think," Arthur admitted, feeling foolish. He glanced up at Charles, studying his face intently. "It started out selfish. It's always been selfish. I wanted you to...to dominate me. To fuck the hell outta me ever since that night you put me in my place. I still do," he admitted sheepishly. Charles huffed a soft laugh.

"All you had to do was ask." Charles slid his hand up into Arthur's hair, tugging his head back slightly. "But I don't do things like that 'casually.'"

"Reckon I don't either," Arthur said softly.

"How about we build up to it?" Charles suggested. Arthur met his eyes and a gentle smile slide across his features.

"Sounds like a plan, Charles."

\-------

Charles did not, all at once, want to fuck Arthur hard, did not want to domineer him and shove him into the ground, or the bed or whatever surface they found to come together, all urgent thrusts and hot mouths and sliding tongues. But when he saw the simmering heat in Arthur's face, when he heard him quietly murmur, "Harder, Charles," he began to give Arthur what he wanted. In moments where tenderness was not their purpose for coupling, he would grab Arthur's arms, pinning them behind his back, or he'd put an outstretched palm solidly against the nape of Arthur's neck, forcing his head down.

"Like that?" Charles would whisper to his lover.

"Just like that," Arthur would moan beneath him.

And when many months had passed and the words "I love you" had been shared between them, they both felt a little surer, a little more certain of one another.

One quiet night, sharing drinks over the fire, Arthur had met Charles' eyes, his own pupils blown wide with lust despite the brightness of the campfire.

"You want to get out of here?" he purred.

"Of course," Charles had answered, and off they rode to the nearest town, to the nearest hotel, Charles sliding gracefully up the outside stairs of the establishment while Arthur secured the room so they didn't bring suspicion down on themselves.

"Thought that damn innkeep would never shut up," Arthur grumbled as he stripped, turning to Charles. Charles kissed him then, hard and forcefully, his teeth clicking against Arthur's, his fingers settling in his hair with a kind of wild insistency. His eyes glittered.

"Get on your knees." Arthur raised a brow.

"What?"

"Did I stutter?" A smirk now, those soft oak bark colored eyes twinkling beneath eagle-like brows. _"Get on your knees."_ Arthur scoffed and in an instant, Charles put him on his knees, knocking his legs out from under him. Arthur chuckled from where he recovered on the floor, resting a hand on Charles' thigh.

"You finally decide to take what I'm offerin'?" Arthur teased, having tried to get him to do this for months now.

"Could you stop me if you weren't offering it freely?" Charles whispered just loud enough for him to hear, and the threat there, the reminder that Charles was strong enough to take what was not freely given sent a shock of arousal through Arthur. Yes, this was what he had been wanting. Let the younger man take control, let him lose himself in this.

"I reckon I'd try," Arthur smirked, but Charles silenced him by sliding his half-erect cock past his lips.

"Suck it," Charles demanded. Arthur chuckled again, but the bigger, stronger, younger man sank his fingers into Arthur's shoulders almost painfully. "Now." Arthur complied, taking Charles in his mouth, moaning around the girth of him and then gagging over the length of him as he became fully erect, dribbling precum down Arthur's throat. "That's enough. Get on the bed."

"Sure you don't just want to take me on the floor?"

"I said," Charles continued, picking Arthur up and tossing him onto the mattress as easily as a hay bale, "Get on the bed, you stubborn ass." Arthur laid back on the bed, folding his arms behind his head and observing Charles with an air of disobedient amusement, but his cock stood stiff as a board, belying the half-grin on his face. Yes. This was exactly it.

Charles clambered onto the bed and manhandled Arthur, who gave him quite a bit of a fight, resisting at every opportunity Charles' attempts to get him on his hands and knees. Charles slapped one of Arthur's asscheeks hard and then bit his shoulder.

"You aren't going to make this easy, are you?"

"Wouldn't be no fun if I did, now would it?" Arthur challenged, panting as he squirmed in Charles' grip.

"Alright then," Charles said with a sigh, and with a grunt, he flipped Arthur on his back, pinning his knees up around his ears before he slid his fingers down to prod at Arthur's hole.

"I didn't say no lubrication, Charles," Arthur said seriously, his whole body clenching with dread. Charles snorted.

"You really think I'd do something like that to you? Calm down." True to his word, Charles revealed a little tin of lube he'd had the forethought to put on the side table next to the bed. He slid some onto his own cock, onto the fingers of the hand that wasn't holding Arthur in place, and onto Arthur's hole.

"Fuck, that feels good," Arthur murmured and then Charles slid a finger inside, finding the little bundle of nerves within Arthur that made his toes curl. He whined and his cock twitched with the movements, but Charles didn't touch it, just kept up his steady ministrations, carefully slicking and preparing Arthur so that what came next wouldn't injure him. "You, uh, you gonna take me like this?" Arthur asked where his head was scrunched up against the headboard, his legs pushed down on him, making it a little difficult to draw in a breath.

"I'm going to take you several different ways," Charles advised, and with the yank of one arm, he flipped Arthur and then he drug him to the edge of the bed and no amount of resistance could have stopped him from doing so. Arthur could feel the bundled strength in those thick arms, knew the power in those legs, knew that, if Charles were the sort of person to take what was not given, he could have had Arthur however he wanted.

"God Almighty," Arthur swore as Charles smashed him down into the mattress. His feet were planted on the wooden floor, but his upper body was folded over the bed, his own erection pinned uncomfortably between his belly and the quilted top of the mattress. "Charles, can I - "

"No," Charles cut him off before he could finish asking. A wide hand pressed down on his back, and the other snatched both of Arthur's wrists, holding his hands behind him with a grip that Arthur didn't think he could have broken if he wanted to. The thought sent another jolt of pure arousal through him.

"Fuck me, Charles, oh, Lord have mercy, please fuck me," Arthur begged as Charles slid his greased cock up Arthur's asscrack, grinding his hips down teasingly. He released Arthur's arms so he could instead grab his hips. Arthur panted beneath him, his fingers grasping at the quilt beneath him, his ass pressing up into Charles. Charles pushed him back down.

"I will fuck you when I am good and ready," he said simply, removing his contact from Arthur. Arthur gave a whiny little moan, clapping a hand over his mouth when he realized how embarrassingly needy it had sounded. He had never wanted something like this before Charles, but now it was all he wanted. Charles flipped him onto his back, sitting atop his chest. He didn't ask, didn't give any kind of preamble, he just forced the head of his cock into Arthur's mouth again and slid it home, Arthur gagging over its length. Charles bent over onto his elbows so that his body shrouded Arthur's head entirely, fucking his mouth with crisp, shallow movements of his hips until Arthur coughed and spluttered beneath him. When Charles pulled his cock out of his mouth, Arthur gasped in a breath, his eyes watering and his nose running from having to hold his breath while Charles had his way with his mouth and his throat.

"Please," he begged again, and this time Charles flipped him again so that he was belly down. The bigger man tipped Arthur's hips back up and he pressed a finger resolutely inside of Arthur. Arthur, overwhelmed with lust, shoved his hips back and fucked himself on Charles' finger, moaning when the man added a second, and then a third, making completely sure he was ready for this. With his free hand, Charles pinched first one, then the other of Arthur's nipples, hard enough to sting, but Arthur let out a low whine. "Ooh, oh fuck," he mumbled. He needed this. He needed to be fucked into submission, told what to do. God Almighty, how had this never occurred to him before Charles? He was dominant and violent and strong outside of the bedroom, but Christ God, having someone else take the power, having someone else be the one pushing him around? His cock throbbed as he let himself appreciate the moment, let himself appreciate that Charles was completely, entirely in control here. "Well?" Arthur challenged.

"I'm..." Charles let out a soft huff of laughter, "I gotta calm down for a second. You've got me...this is surprisingly..."

"It is, ain't it?" Arthur smirked. He was glad Charles was finally as turned on by this idea as he was. Charles rearranged Arthur's position on the mattress again, again dragging him to the edge of the bed, letting him plant his feet on the cool wood floor and then without further overture, he rammed himself home, extricating a loud moan from Arthur. Charles wrapped his fingers over Arthur's shoulder and proceeded to fuck him fast and hard, reveling in the whiny, desperate grunts and moans and curses that poured from Arthur's mouth, the way his hair got sweaty and matted with moisture as Charles shifted his grip from Arthur's shoulder to his hair. He tugged backwards and then folded himself over Arthur so he could murmur in his ear.

"You like that?"

"Yes, yes, harder, Charles, harder, please," Arthur whined and Charles had to swallow to control himself because while he'd never really thought he could get into the idea of dominating Arthur, this willing moaning for his cock, this desperate pleading to be forced was a thing that suddenly had Charles eager to throw Arthur around, to show him just how strong he was and how powerless Arthur was once Charles had decided to do something to him. With a purring growl, he rammed himself home again and again as Arthur moaned and whined and mewled beneath him, sweat beading on his brow, his eyes, turning to look at Charles, full of want and need and adoration. Charles knew, with a kind of profound realization that intimacy brings, that Arthur wouldn't let anyone else do this to him. This was an ache for _him_ and _him alone._ He kept his fingers tangled in Arthur's hair and whispered a quiet,

"I love you, Arthur," into the shell of his ear before he bit his neck, leaving a red mark there. _You are mine,_ those teeth marks said.

"Love you too, Charles," Arthur managed to grunt out between the slaps of Charles' hips against his own, amidst the haze of arousal and ecstasy. Arthur struggled to reach a hand beneath himself to stroke his own neglected erection, but Charles snatched his hand in a solid grip, preventing the action. "Charles, please."

"No," he said simply, but he was smirking. He yanked Arthur up off the bed, slinging him over his shoulder. Arthur let out a little sound of protest as his belly was folded over Charles' shoulder, but he quieted when Charles deposited him on the center of the mattress, his shoulders taking the brunt of his weight, his legs held up and open by Charles' hands. Charles slid his cock back home, his hips pressing down now, fucking Arthur's neck and shoulders into the mattress as Charles stood on the bed.

Scrabbling at the quilt with his hands, Arthur helped to balance himself, moaning softly as Charles had his way in the uncomfortable position. When Arthur thought he could take the abuse to his shoulders no more, he didn't even have to say anything. Charles grabbed his ankles and slung him again so that he was belly flat against the mattress. Charles followed him down, pressing himself back inside of Arthur, but this time reaching a hand beneath his lover's hips to grasp Arthur's cock and balls in a vice-like grip.

_These are mine and there is nothing you can do about it,_ said a squeeze from Charles' hand that had Arthur squirming. Charles smashed Arthur's face into the soft pillows, fucking quickly into him with pops from his hips that sounded like applause against Arthur's ass. He slapped Arthur's ass, leaving a red, handprint-shaped welt on his cheek and forcing a shrill moan from his mouth. With a purr, Charles folded himself on top of Arthur again, one hand covering Arthur's mouth as he increased his tempo, as he shoved himself inside of Arthur as deeply as he could go. The small whines and moans and cries beneath his hand matched the rhythm of his hips and he smiled slightly as he saw the fucked out expression on Arthur's face, pure bliss.

This big, bad, nasty outlaw, all stretched out and whining beneath him, wanted to be forced, wanted to be manhandled and overpowered. Charles gladly gave into those needs, preventing Arthur from lifting his head, fucking him long and forcefully, stroking Arthur’s cock just enough to keep him interested, but not enough to bring him release.

"Come here," Charles commanded, tugging Arthur up by the hair, turning him so they were facing one another with Arthur on his back and Charles spread his legs, staring down at the gorgeous sight beneath him – Arthur's eyes begging to be fucked, his cock dribbling precum, his hole stretched open from Charles' work. Charles hummed a noise of contentment and sank back inside of Arthur, pushing Arthur's legs so that the older man hooked his ankles behind Charles' back, holding him closer as his hips worked, his back muscles sliding powerfully beneath Arthur's calves. "Is this what you wanted?" Charles asked softly, slowing the rolling of his hips, taking Arthur's cock in his hand and beginning to finally bring him to release as he kept himself sheathed inside of Arthur's willing body. Arthur's eyes met his own.

"You're what I wanted, Charles." Charles bent and kissed him deeply, his tongue sliding against Arthur's, his lips caressing the older outlaw’s and he swallowed the grunt that Arthur made as he finally climaxed, spending himself on his own belly. Charles followed soon after, his muscles tightening, his grip on the back of Arthur's neck pressing tighter, holding their foreheads together as he emptied himself inside of Arthur.

When Arthur had first feared, and then craved domination by Charles, he had never thought that this could become what it now was - companionship, adoration, love. He could let Charles do this, could let himself be pinned and fucked into submission because he trusted him. He loved him.

Arthur reached a hand up and brushed it through Charles' soft black hair.

"Thank you." Charles didn't respond verbally, but he got up, Arthur murmuring a soft sound of protest at the loss. Charles got a moist rag and cleaned Arthur gently. He massaged sore neck muscles and kissed gently the marks he had left with his hands and his teeth. "Don't know if I'll be able to ride back to camp tomorrow," Arthur chuckled.

Charles huffed a laugh as well and pulled him close. This time Arthur didn't pull away.

"Remember when you wanted to keep this casual?" Charles asked him, meeting his eyes. Arthur blushed and smiled a bit.

"Naw. I don't think I ever really wanted casual. I was just..."

"Being a jackass?" Charles offered helpfully.

"Hmm," Arthur hummed a sound of agreement. "Good thing I came to my senses." Charles kissed him.

"Good thing."


End file.
